


Medicated

by peggy_hamilton



Series: Band Of Brothers Imagines [17]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 03:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20351272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peggy_hamilton/pseuds/peggy_hamilton
Summary: someone has to teach Roe how to be a medic





	Medicated

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr @justthinkingofwaystoavoidbusses
> 
> original request: You do band of brothers? Could you please do Eugene x reader! I love that man! - @gondorgirl01 / Hmm… how about Eugene’s p.o.v while he’s struggling through medical training and trying to stay motivated - anon

Eugene’s POV

He sighed in frustration and threw down the bandage at the dummy he was meant to be working on, he had been chosen to be a medic because he was one of the fastest guys in the company and he couldn’t even tie a bandage right.

“Need help?” a soft voice sounded behind him and he glanced up. You were one of the nurses training the men who were going to be the future medics.

Reluctantly he nodded, the rest of them men had cleared out already to go shower and blow off some steam but he knew he needed more practice. He didn’t want to be responsible for one of his friends bleeding out in the field because he could tie a bandage securely. You knelt down beside him and took the bandage and tied it expertly around the dummy’s arms. “Tie it first like a shoelace to get it as tight as possible, to get as much pressure as possible. Then wrap the ends round and tuck them in.”

He looked down at what you had done, making it all seem so simple. You undid the bandage and handed it to him, “Now you try.”

Eugene took it from your hands and tied it on the dummy, following step by step what you had done. You smiled brightly at him, “That’s great, better already.” He blushed and ducked his head at the compliment, “Anything else you need help with?” you offered.

“Not yet,” his lips formed a thin line, you noticed his thick accent which sent shivers down your spine.

“You can come ask me any time. Where are you from, if I may ask?”

“Louisiana. Bayou Chene, you know it?”

“Vaguely,” you nodded, “My family moved around a lot.”

“How come?” he asked.

You shrugged, “My parents never really settled anywhere, we lived in the car more than in any house.”

“That sounds rough.”

“Not really,” you shook your head, “I’ve been everywhere, not many people can say that.”

He smiled, “That’s true.” You decided you liked his smile.

Glancing down at your watch you realised it was time for food, “I’ve gotta go, but if you ever need anything just ask,” you reminded him and he nodded. After you left he practised some more until he had perfected it and could tie a bandage in less than a minute.

—

The thing about being a medic was he didn’t get to carry a firearm, so when the rest of the guys were training how to fire their guns he was stuck doing medic training. He had to read up on how to deal with blown up limbs, ricochets, bullet wounds, shrapnel, where to put morphine, how to use plasma. It was a lot to remember and it was hard to stay motivated, it was all too easy to drop out of the airborne and not be a medic but he’d come too far and he be damned if he was anything less than a paratrooper.

He had borrowed some of the medical books and was sat outside soaking in the Georgian sun as he flicked through the pages, trying to ingrain every bit of information in his mind. “Hey, stranger.” Eugene looked up and saw you standing above him, blocking the sun and he smiled at you, “What you doing?” you asked and sat next to him.

“Reading up,” he replied dejectedly, “I’m never gonna remember this.”

“Sure you are,” you replied confidently.

He looked at you disbelievingly and you plucked the book from his arms, “M’kay. If a guy gets shot in the thigh, where do you give him the morphine?”

“Opposite thigh.”

“How much morphine should you give a guy?”

“No more than two syrettes, only one if he’s a smaller guy.”

“If you give a man morphine you..?”

“Mark his forehead with an M.”

You smiled to yourself as he got all the answers right, “How do you use plasma?”

“Insert it into a vein and hold it above his heart.”

“A soldier has been shot in his stomach, thigh and shoulder. What do you do first?”

“Check the thigh to see if it hit a major artery.”

“Then?”

“His stomach to see if it hit an organ.”

“And finally?”

“The shoulder, it’s the lowest priority.”

You grinned at him, “See? You’ll do just fine, stop stressing. These guys trust you, I can see it when I see you out training with them. You’re one of the best medics at this camp, don’t give yourself a hard time, yeah? Besides, there’s still a bunch of time left before you’ll see combat.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiled shyly at you.

“Anytime, Roe,” you patted his shoulder and stood up.

“You can call me Gene.”

You smiled at him, “Will do. See you around, Gene.”

—

Everyone had been shipped over to England for further training, including the nurses. Eugene still had to miss out on some training with the guys to practice, you were teaching the medics more complicated stuff now like how to stitch a guy up or deal with a hit organ in case any of them were ever assigned to the med bay.

You had them all sewing up orange peels to practice their stitching, some of them were more sloppy than others so she made them start from scratch until they got it right. While you were all for gentle encouragement the jump was looming over everyone’s heads and now was not the time to be nice about it all.

Eugene was pretty good with a needle and thread, he had often helped his mother sew up his clothes when they became torn. He still couldn’t get over the fact that soon he would be sewing up people rather than fabric but he pushed that thought aside. “Looks good,” you praised over his shoulder and he smiled shyly.

“Thanks.”

—

It was later that evening when the nerves hit, they all knew that they would be jumping within the next two or three weeks. Usually he was calm about the whole thing but the nerves had built up, he quietly exited the barracks and lit up a smoke, leaning back against it.

In the distance he spotted your familiar silhouette sitting against the wall of the nurses barracks and he walked over to you. You had your head back resting against the wall with your eyes closed, enjoying the calm breeze. “Why are you awake?” he asked, a frown creasing at his eyebrows.

You didn’t open your eyes, recognising his Cajun accent right away. “I could say the same thing.” You patted the space next to you and he sat down, taking a drag of his smoke.

Reaching over you plucked it from his hands and took a drag of it yourself. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t,” you smirked. “Usually,” you added.

He huffed a laugh, taking his smoke back and flicked the embers off the end. “Why are you awake?” he prompted again.

You looked over at him and chose your words carefully, “I’ve worked as a nurse in hospitals before, and we got extra experience in some of them down in London where they’re bombing the shit out of the place and there’s new people, civilians, coming in injured every night.”

You sighed heavily and he didn’t speak up, letting you talk. “I have an idea of what it’s going to be like, but it’s all too real. It’s fine when it’s just getting experience, but out there there’s no end to it. There’s no going home at the end of the shift, there’s no shift because they don’t stop the war so you can sleep. I’m not sure I’m ready for it all. Why are you awake?”

“I’m scared that I’ll freeze up out there and forget all my training, let my friends die.”

“You’re the best medic here, I know you’ll be fine out there. You care for the men so I know you won’t freeze up because you won’t let yourself.”

“That goes for you, too. You’re the best nurse, you’ll be strong enough to get through it,” he said sincerely.

“Thanks, Gene,” you smiled gratefully and rested your head on his shoulder. Tentatively he took your hand in his and interlaced your fingers, you smiled softly and squeezed his hand. “If we both make it out alive you should come visit me.”

“Where do you live?” he asked, a faint smile on his face.

You paused, “Nowhere, scratch that, I’ll come visit you.”

Eugene laughed, “It’s a deal.”

“Good,” you smiled, you sat there together sharing the smoke until it ran out then you sat there in the silence some more. When the night began to get lighter you pulled yourself away, “We’d better get a bit of sleep.”

He nodded, disappointed but understood where you were coming from. “Gene?” you called from the door to your barracks, he looked around and raised his eyebrows. “You’ll be fine.”

“So will you,” you smiled at each other and you slipped back inside, the memory of him pressed against your side running through your mind as you fell asleep.


End file.
